RoyAi Tumblr Prompts
by rizahawkaye
Summary: I figured I'd publish these RoyAi prompts I answer on Tumblr! I'll keep adding them as I do them, and if you wanna send me a prompt you can totally hit up my ask box on Tumblr (@rizahawkaye).
1. Sharpie Mustache

**Prompt:** Riza always wondered how the Colonel managed to grow his mustache seemingly overnight... until she found him drawing it on one morning in sharpie

 **A/N** : I can't believe I wrote this.

In hindsight, Riza should've known. Frequent trips to the bathroom generally hinted at…bladder infections? Pregnancies? IBS? All of which she'd asked the colonel about in private, awkward silence and flustered faces filling the space between his denials. It was then that she noticed the tufts (or, rather, the suspiciously even dark lines under his nose and above his lip) of "hair." The fluorescent lights of the bathroom she had followed him into illuminated the thin caterpillar of fuzz like an angel might present a bright, warm sign that said, "Not today, friend! Hell's _THAT_ way!"

When the musty smell of old urine and bleach gave way to ( _Is that a Sharpie?_ ) other uneasy scents, Riza had plugged her nose and left the colonel to his business. Two days later, the caterpillar blossomed into a butterfly. Havoc tried to peer down at it, getting closer and closer over Roy's desk and into his face until the colonel whipped his hand over his mouth and claimed he was sick. "No one gets near my face," he'd said, all bravado. Though his voice came up muffled through his fingers. "That's an order."

Riza quickly grew tired of the colonel's new morning, afternoon, and evening bathroom routines. If he didn't have an infection or irritable bowels, then what was he doing? And why did it seem like his lip grew a bit darker every time he left the office? _How is he growing that abomination so fast?_ She took to her desk, which had been meticulously prepared for a case such as this, and flipped a tiny switch on the inside of her deepest drawer. The satisfying click signaled the locking mechanism had been disabled, and so she gently (oh so gently) plucked a single, gold-studded razor from under a laminate lining. She stood, and the atmosphere of the room shifted. Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery saluted her, and she saluted them back, an uncertain sweat trickling over her brow. She has a job to do, _but can she do it?_

She found the colonel in the bathroom farthest away from the office. He was bent forward over a sink, studying his facial hair in a murky mirror. Riza swallowed hard, let the door slam shut behind her, and said, "It's time, Colonel. You're scaring the men. Now lather your face."

The colonel went rigid. _There's that Sharpie smell again._

"No," he said. "It might smear if I do that."

"Smear, Sir?" And then she noticed it. How did she not notice it days ago? That intoxicating Sharpie, perched delicately in his dominant hand. He held it as carefully as one might hold a torch, or a jar containing the ashes of their beloved mother. Her eyes settled on it as his flitted to her embarrassingly extravagant razor.

Whoever moved first was the winner, and Riza always moved first.

She managed to whack the Sharpie out of his hand before he could reach for her, and in a few swift movements she had his back craning around the curve of the sink and the water flushing over his face. She kept her forearm pressed firmly over his chest while she threatened to scrape the stained skin off with the razor in her free hand. (She wouldn't, of course, but the promise that she could was enough to get the colonel to wipe the fake hair off himself.) Roy emerged from the short scuffle with his lieutenant a little red-face, damp, and…black-lipped? He was right about the smearing. The dark ink coated his lips and chin where he'd feverishly tried to rub it off. It looked like someone had doused a fire on his face.

"What have we learned?" Riza probed, sliding her razor into her pocket like it was a gun she needed to holster.

"To use something washable next time."


	2. Blowing Chunks

**Prompt:** RoyAi pregnancy!

 **A/N** : I've never written anything about Riza being pregnant and so this was sort of challenging for me. (': In the end I decided write something completely self-indulgent. I'm a sucker for Roy and Riza just…touching lmao. So enjoy the uuuuhhhhhhh sickeningly sweet fluff.

Riza fought the nausea back like it was an intrusive thought. If she could pretend it wasn't there, maybe it would go away. But pushing it out of her mind only made her fixate on it more. The young boy nestled into her lap didn't make anything easier. Every time he shifted to point at the Führer, or to turn to a friend, he ground his spine against her swelling belly and she had to hiss the pain out under her breath.

Roy had insisted that she stay home instead of joining him out in the heat of Ishval. She almost wished that she had taken him up on the offer. A thick film of sweat was forming over her brow, and the back of her throat tasted like fermenting vomit. She needed water, or an ice bath. But she'd never missed the opening of one of the Ishvalan schools before. As Roy's adjutant, she'd seen three. This was her first as his wife. Morning sickness or not, she felt she must be at least seemingly infallible. Amestris had put a great amount of care in assimilating Ishvalan schools into their education system so that they may keep their religious educators and studies while also receiving government aid. It had been an idea Roy and Riza proposed on their own years ago, and to see it come to life over and over again was blissfully satisfying. Even if her body threatened to spill the contents of her stomach all over her lap, Riza was glad to be with the children as they took their first steps into their new school.

"Oh, Miss Riza," the boy in her lap cooed. His red eyes locked onto the Führer as he made his way toward them. Riza watched him stop every other step to make polite conversation with those who pressed for it. "Führer Mustang is very handsome."

 _Sure, sure, sure,_ she thought, ignoring a throb of nausea. Of course he's handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders. Riza never failed to notice the way the younger officers looked at him like there were hearts in their eyes. She kept hers on him now as he crossed the schoolyard. How he managed to look so comfortable under his thick layers of stiff military blues was a mystery to her. The sun beat hard and unrelenting overhead, and she felt like she was cooking in it in her breezy blouse and slacks. But he shot flirty grins at the teachers and lifted his field cap to run a hand through his hair like it were a cool autumn afternoon. She would have scoffed if she weren't so afraid of blowing chunks.

He started for her again, finally managing to break free from the dozens of people who wanted their time with the _handsome_ new Führer. His grin melted away into a gentle smile when his eyes found hers. Her stomach did a flip. _Oh no._

She could feel the threat of bile on her tongue. When Roy was within her reach, she plucked the boy from her lap and handed him off. Instead of spewing her breakfast out in front of school faculty and children and the press, she decided to swallow the sick until she could slump into the shade behind a petite, square building labeled "LIBRARY." She retched into the dirt, her emotions stuck somewhere between shame and indifference.

She wasn't surprised when Roy's voice drifted over the sound of her gagging. "You should have stayed home," he said. He offered her a paper cup of water. She forced herself to sip at it instead of pouring the whole of it over her face like she wanted to. Each time she took a drink the taste of vomit went staler in her mouth, and she felt the heat in her cheeks deepen the longer she let the hot air linger over it. "The last thing I want is for you to be miserable."

"It seems that's all this baby wants," Riza huffed. Roy laughed. Softly, quiet enough that it didn't echo off the buildings and carry out to the people gathered in the yard.

"It's not the baby, my dear, it's your body." He touched her cheek, ran a thumb along her jaw. "I would make this pregnancy the easiest in the world if I could."

"You could have not gotten me pregnant," she said, fully aware of how petty she sounded. Roy wasn't fazed.

"I don't remember you protesting," he smirked. His fingers curled around her face.

Riza took a breath. _Führer Mustang is very handsome._

She crinkled the paper cup in one hand and braced her other on her husband's chest. She leaned forward, went up on her toes a little, and pressed a kiss to his lips. She'd claim later that it was the hormones, the stuff raging around in her blood that was causing her to feel so disgusting, but he wouldn't believe it. He attempted to deepen the kiss but she fell back, putting a hand over his mouth.

"I just threw up," she reminded him. "A foot to your right, actually."

Roy shrugged. "It's baby vomit," he tried to rationalize. Riza suppressed a snicker.

"Baby vomit is a baby's vomit, Roy, not vomit brought on by a baby."

He leaned into her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. "Okay," he said, feigning agitation. He wound his arms across her back and hugged her to him. She whimpered a little when the pressure got to be too much for her fragile belly and he pulled back to ghost a kiss over forehead. "You want to hide out in one of the offices in the school? The air conditioning unit is new, and I've heard it kicks in quick and works well."

"Yes," she said, trying not to sound like he'd just saved her life. She put a hand on the spot she thought her baby might be. "This kid better be worth it."

Roy only smiled. "If there's any bit of you in them, they will be."


End file.
